Blank Slate
by Tom Dodger
Summary: Harry has managed to defeat Voldemort, but he hasn't survived unscathed. To the dismay of everyone but Harry, not only has he lost his memories, a few screws have been knocked loose, too.
1. Chapter One

**Blank Slate **

**Chapter One**

Black smoke billowed from the empty window frames, creating a thick fog over the village of Hogsmeade, which blocked out the intense midday sun. The wooden shack creaked, its structure failing, seconds from collapsing altogether. The unnatural flames flared, stopping the few rescuers from gaining any ground.

A murmur spread through the last of the Order of the Phoenix. They had tried for an hour to get closer, using every spell and charm they knew, but nothing would allow them to save the boy inside the burning Shrieking Shack.

"There's nothing more we can do," said Alastor Moody, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Don't say that!" Hermione screeched, struggling and failing to free herself from Remus's strong grasp. "Don't even think it, just let me go and get him!"

"Hermione," said Ron, shaking his head and meeting her eyes. "There's nothing we can do."

"No, not you, Ron…"

"He's right," said Remus quietly.

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to retort, just as the Shrieking Shack exploded. The blast blew them all off their feet before they could react, but Hermione was standing in an instant, out of Remus's grasp and ready to run, but the devastation stopped her in her tracks.

The fire had disappeared as fast as it had appeared, and where the derelict building had once stood was now a blackened wasteland. Hermione stared, horrified, as her feet took her across the still smouldering timber. The explosion had ripped the shack to pieces, but bits of wood and plaster had created a scorched mountain of wreckage. Underneath it all was her best friend, Harry.

"Hermione, stop!" Ron ran to her, panting as he reached her side. "Remember, You Know Who is still here, too."

They worked fast and in silence to clear the debris, sweating and panting from the sheer heat, when Charlie Weasley gave a shout.

"I found a wand." Charlie held it above his head and all eyes were drawn to the white piece of wood.

"It's not Harry's," said Hermione, feeling hope swell in her stomach. She raised her voice. "It's Voldemort's. Maybe Harry got out!"

"Hermione," said Ron, shaking his head again. "If he got out, we would have seen him."

"Don't lose hope, Ron!" snapped Hermione.

She continued to work with renewed vigour, more determined than ever to find him. Harry would never lay down and die, she repeated to herself. He was the most determined person she had ever met. At times he infuriated her more than Ron did, and he terrified her with his recklessness … but that was just who he was. He was her best friend, and he was not dead!

"I've got him."

The words stopped Hermione short, and she whirled around to face Hagrid. The half-giant's hair had been burnt on one side of his skull, distorting his skin, but he was still working. His great strength meant he could move three times more than any of them, and he swatted aside a door, and there he was…

Harry Potter was on his side, clothes torn to shreds, but looking for all the world as though he was asleep. He even had a smile on his face, Hermione saw as she got closer. But as she reached his side she realised he hadn't escaped by incredible luck yet again. He wasn't breathing, and a pool of blood was forming like a halo around his hair.

In a matter of moments Harry was whisked away by someone – Hermione didn't see who – and her world seemed to shatter before her eyes. She'd had him back for one brief, glorious moment. Now his life was hanging in the balance and she wasn't going to leave his side for one second.

* * *

"I'm just going to pop to the bathroom for a second," said Hermione, slipping out of the door.

Ron grunted as he watched her leave the private room, only to sigh as the door swung closed. He sat back in his chair and watched Harry's chest move rhythmically up and down … up and down … but his eyes had yet to open. It had been over a month now, since Harry had charged after Voldemort and somehow defeated him. Nobody but Harry knew how he'd managed it, but he wasn't awake to tell the tale.

"Look, I'm not being funny, mate, but wake up soon, yeah?" Ron winced at his own words. "Yeah, I suppose that won't work. How about if I offered you two naked veela? Oh, who am I kidding? You're Harry Potter! You could have hundreds of veela if you wanted! One for every day of the year!"

Ron sighed again when he saw no change in Harry.

"It was a good, if slightly worrying, attempt," said Hermione, re-entering the room. She suddenly paused at the end of Harry's bed, her eyes widening. She pointed a shaking hand at her friend. "He's waking up…"

"Wha—?" said Ron stupidly, nearly jumping onto his best friend's bed.

"He's waking up," repeated Hermione, disbelief colouring her voice. "He's waking up," she said again, her voice getting louder. "Ron, he's waking up!"

Ron winced. "Yes, I know," he ground out. "Call the healer or something, fast!"

The doors nearly exploded off their hinges as Hermione barrelled through them, shouting for help.

Ron turned to Harry, amazed to see his jaw moving from side to side. His cracked lips parted ever so slightly, and Ron leaned in to hear what he was saying.

"What were you saying about veela?"

Ron's jaw dropped and his eyebrows jumped into his ginger head of hair. "Blimey, mate! I was only joking."

For the first time in a month Harry opened his eyes just as Hermione entered the room once again, followed by a blonde healer in her mid-twenties.

"Harry!" shouted Hermione, looking like she was about to pounce on him, but only refrained from doing so by Harry's cringe.

The healer started to wave her wand all over his body, and her blue eyes locked on his. "Good morning, Mr Potter. It's nice to finally see those eyes I've heard all about."

Harry cracked a lecherous grin. "Stick around and get rid of these two stalkers," he said, jerking a thumb at the dumbstruck Ron and Hermione, "and I'll show you a hell of a lot more."

The silence was deafening, but Harry didn't appear to notice or care; he was too busy craning his neck to get a better look at his healer's arse.

"Harry!" Hermione crossed her arms and her lips thinned. "What do you think you're doing?"

Harry blinked at her and scratched his head, then understanding seemed to dawn on him. "Sorry about that," he said. Hermione was nodding in satisfaction when he added, "But you'll have to wait your turn."

Hermione and Ron goggled at him, but he completely ignored them, as he went back to trying to chat up his healer.

"So, what's your name?"

"You can call me Delia," said Delia, flashing him a bright grin, which made Hermione groan piteously and Harry laugh in delight.

"What time do you finish your shift?" asked Harry.

"Not until six, but I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere soon," said Delia sternly, but her strictness broke down at the pout on his face. "Don't worry, I'm sure it won't be for long."

"But I feel fine now!" insisted Harry. As if to prove his point he jumped out of bed, wearing only his bright smile. "See, fine!"

"Gah!" exclaimed Ron, turning away and throwing his hands over his eyes.

"Um, Harry…" Hermione politely averted her eyes. "You're, um, well."

"Naked, Harry," said Delia, licking her lips as she looked him up and down.

Harry looked down at himself. "Huh, so I am. How about, since I'm naked and all, you repay the favour…?"

A faint pink blush appeared on Delia's cheeks. "I didn't think you'd be so forward, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "If you're not going forwards, you're going backwards, and who the hell wants to go backwards?" He received strange looks. "Anyway, I think it's only fair if you hop out of that uniform—"

"Harry," interrupted a now bright red Hermione. "You can't just say things like that." She looked to Delia for help. "What's wrong with him?"

Delia raised an eyebrow. "You mean he wasn't like this before?"

"Of course not!"

"Oh," said Delia, eyeing Harry in concern. "If you would just get back into bed, Harry…"

Harry grinned triumphantly. "Certainly, Delia. You, redhead –" he pointed at Ron, " – get the hell out and leave us alone."

Ron mouthed wordlessly, his face turning a tomato red.

"Oh, it's worse than I thought," admitted Delia.

Hermione could only nod in agreement and hope her best friend could be fixed. Just what had happened in the Shrieking Shack that had sent him so … so … She eyed Harry nervously and felt like crying.

Ron and Hermione were forced to leave Harry, so tests could be performed, and they went straight to the Burrow to tell the Weasleys the news. They arrived through the fireplace and gathered in the kitchen, where everyone was already sitting at the table, about to have lunch.

"It's good and bad news," admitted Hermione, wringing her hands.

"Yeah, something like that." Ron felt like he'd been smacked in the face with a Confundus Charm. He was starting to wish he had been, just so everything could return to normal. "Harry's awake."

"He's what?" Molly jumped out of her chair, sending it flying into the cooker. "Why didn't you say anything sooner, Ronald! We have to go and see him."

"You can't," said Ron, holding his hands up to stop his mother's stampede. "We've just been kicked out of his room, so they can check him over. Listen, it's not, um, it's not great."

"What do you mean?" asked Molly fearfully.

"Harry's not quite himself right now." Hermione thought that was as delicate as she could put it.

"He's lost his bleedin' marbles, mum!" said Ron. "He called us stalkers!"

Hermione glared at him, but turned to the confused family and explained, "Harry's currently lost his memory." It didn't feel right saying he'd lost his _mind_, even if she was thinking it. "I don't know what he can remember, if anything, but it must be nearly all of his memories."

"Yeah," said Ron. "If he can't remember us, his _best friends_, who the hell will he remember?"

"Oh my," was all Molly could say, and suddenly uproar descended on the kitchen, as everyone shouted their questions over each other.

* * *

"So, who were those two?" asked Harry, after Hermione and Ron had left. "I can't say I know them."

Delia stared at him for a long moment, completely taken aback. "You don't remember them?"

"Remember them?" Harry snorted. "I've never seen them before in my life. Why? Should I know them?"

"Well…" Delia bit her bottom lip. "They are kind of your best friends."

Harry laughed uproariously.

"I'm serious, Harry," said Delia. Her words didn't sober him up any, so she waited until his laughter stopped. "Just allow me to check for something, please. If you'd just lay still."

Harry did as he was told, feeling thoroughly amused at the thought of being best friends with people he'd never met.

Delia pointed her wand at his skull and muttered some words under her breath. Her eyes grew wider with every second, and then she swallowed thickly.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, Mr Potter, but I'm afraid you—"

"Have I lost my memory?" asked Harry bluntly.

Delia stared at him in disbelief. She'd encountered patients losing their memories before, and it usually involved uncontrollable sobbing or complete denial, but this was different.

"I'm afraid you have," said Delia, just waiting for the crying to start.

"Huh," said Harry, shrugging. "Oh well, what can you do? Now, seeing as I can't remember a damn thing, how about you and I create my very first memory?"

Delia just stared. She couldn't believe he'd just accepted the loss of his memories without a thought, and in the very next second he started chatting her up. It wasn't right.

"What are we going to do with you, Mr Potter?" At Harry's grin, she waggled her finger in his face. "Don't even answer that."


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Harry wasn't sure if he'd ever longed for peace and quiet before his memory loss, but he was longing for it now. Hermione and Ron had come back just after he'd had his dinner, and ever since he'd had visitors. They each came into his room smiling nervously, but left looking thoroughly confused. He consoled himself with the fact that at least he wasn't bored out of his skull.

The first visitor had been a woman named Molly Weasley – Ron's mother. She was quite a plump lady, who'd immediately started crying when she saw him.

"Oh, Harry…" Molly had sobbed, and flung her arms around his shoulders.

It had only gotten more awkward from then onwards.

A pair of identical twins had burst through the doors with big grins, immediately telling Harry how good he was at flying. Then they started telling him about how good they were at flying, and all about their genius inventions. They'd only laughed when Harry mentioned he wouldn't mind buying some of their products.

Hermione had glared daggers at them until they left.

"They seemed nice," Harry had said, which had been a mistake. He'd received a five minute lecture on how they'd dropped out of school and were wasting their talents on silly pranks. By the time she was finished, he was starting to wish he was still in a coma.

From there, Harry had been forced to endure the most awkward conversation of his life (which wasn't saying much considering he couldn't remember anything) with Ginny Weasley. She mentioned something about once having a crush on him.

Then he'd spoken with Ron's older brother, Charlie, who Harry immediately liked. He admitted he didn't know Harry very well, as he worked with dragons in Romania. Harry had the shock of his life when he was told he'd once out flown a dragon, and was starting to wonder if he was being pranked.

Harry had just about thought the torture was over, when Hermione announced that he still had two more visitors.

"It's my other brother, Bill, and his girlfriend, Fleur," said Ron.

"Another brother?" Harry snorted. "Haven't your folks ever heard of birth control? How often do they go _at_ _it_?"

Ron didn't quite know what to say to that, but Hermione did. "How on earth do you know what birth control is when you don't even know your own mother's name?"

The doors opened again, and Harry sat bolt upright when his eyes landed on her. He hardly noticed Bill walking by her side, and he guessed most people would have the same problem. He remembered what Ron had said about veela, and he knew without doubt that veela blood was somewhere in Fleur's lineage. Her hair was a silvery white and effortlessly styled over her shoulders, resting against pale blue robes. Her eyes were the deepest blue he'd ever seen, although he hadn't seen many eyes, and her skin was a creamy, unblemished shade of perfect white.

"Holy fuck," breathed Harry. "Can I take you home with me?"

Everyone was aware Harry was nearly drooling, including himself. Bill merely raised an eyebrow, but Fleur seemed politely amused.

"You done hitting on my girlfriend, Potter?"

"Hell no," said Harry. "I could dedicate my entire life to creating the most perfect, beautiful woman, and it still wouldn't compare."

"Well," said Bill, unsure how to act, "I think I'll take that as a compliment."

"As will I," said Fleur, eyeing Harry with interest.

"French, too," said Harry. "That's even more perfect."

Hermione had her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry, Fleur, Bill. I should have warned you."

Bill laughed it off. "That's quite all right. I imagine it's all a bit of a shock, eh, Harry?"

Harry completely ignored the question and asked one of his own. "How the hell did you manage to pull the hottest woman I've ever seen?" he demanded. "And please, for the love of God, can you teach me how to do it?"

"I – what?" Bill stumbled over the words. "Merlin, Harry."

Bill and Fleur left the room, more confused than anyone else had been. Ron groaned loudly as soon as the doors shut.

"I can't believe him," he said. "The first thing he does when he wakes up from being in a coma for a month is chat up the healer, and now he hits on my brother's girlfriend?"

Ron looked close to laughing his head off, but Hermione wasn't amused. In fact, judging by how red her face was, the poor girl was moments away from breaking down.

"So, tell me more about this Hogwarts business," said Harry. "Ginny mentioned it earlier."

"Oh no, I didn't think of that," Hermione mumbled, looking terrified. How would they cope a year of Hogwarts with Harry in the state he was in?

"Let's not talk about that now," said Ron, seeing Hermione was starting to work herself up. "Say, can you remember how to play chess?"

"Nope!" said Harry cheerfully. "How hard can it be?"

Hermione whimpered in her seat, but Ron looked positively gleeful.

"Don't worry, mate, I'll show you the basics."

"Does it include veela?" asked Harry hopefully, and Hermione whimpered again.

* * *

Harry said goodbye to Delia and St. Mungo's the next morning, which surprised him. For one thing, didn't he have a brain injury? He'd asked that very question, but Delia had informed him there was nothing he could do but hope the memories would return.

The second thing that worried him was the fact he had no idea where he lived. Hermione had mentioned something about him growing up with his aunt and uncle, but apparently he hated them, they hated him, and so it was decided he was going to live with Ron in the Burrow for a month.

"Where's my wand?" asked Harry. Ron passed it to him and Harry inspected it closely, noting it was slightly scorched but otherwise intact. "You say you've got to be seventeen to perform magic outside of school, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes…"

"And how old am I?"

"You turned seventeen just last week — oh no you don't." Hermione plucked the wand from Harry's grasp before he could utter a spell. She looked mightily alarmed at the thought of him performing magic. "You won't be using this until you've proved you know what you're doing."

Harry scowled at the girl. "Did you and I ever go out? Because you're acting like a nagging bloody girlfriend right now!"

Hermione harrumphed but said nothing, which just made Harry believe something must have happened between them.

"We've got a Portkey set up for you, mate," said Ron, holding up a rubber duck. "Dad had it made in the Ministry."

"Well, let's get it over with," said Harry.

They each placed a finger on the rubber duck and were whisked away, landing on a grassy hill. The sun was shining brightly overhead and the fresh air filled Harry with joy. The walk down the hill took them to the Burrow, and it was here Harry paused.

"It looks like it's going to collapse," he said, eyeing the house nervously.

Hermione and Ron eyed each other guiltily. They hadn't told him how he'd lost his memories yet, although he hadn't asked, either.

"It's perfectly safe," said Hermione.

"Yeah, it's held up with magic, see," added Ron.

"Hmm," said Harry. "Was I in a collapsed building before now? I have this awful sense of déjà vu."

Ron shuffled his feet. "Something like that, mate. We'll tell you about it later."

Harry was dragged into the house and was surprised to find it empty. He looked left and right, to the kitchen and living room, expecting someone to jump out at any moment. Ron and Hermione watched him curiously.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Haven't you thrown me a get well and surprise birthday party?" Harry shrugged in disappointment. "I guess we weren't the best of friends like I've been told. Now, where's my bedroom? I need to dump this." He lifted up backpack. "And who's cooking? I'm starving!"

Ron mouthed 'surprise party?' at Hermione, but she shook her head.

"Go and show Harry to his room, Ron," instructed Hermione. "Then how about we go to Diagon Alley for something to eat? We can tell you some more about your life there, Harry."

"Sounds good to me," said Harry and he followed Ron up the creaking stairs. He was sure the roof would fall on top of him in his sleep, but Ron had seemed quite insulted when he'd mentioned it before, so he didn't say anything.

Harry was given Fred and George's old room, which he would be using until he went back to Hogwarts. Ron warned him to be on the lookout for any leftover pranks, which just excited Harry.

Hermione decided it would be best to use the Floo Network to take them to Diagon Alley, and she went through the green flames first.

"So, what's her deal?" asked Harry, just before he was going to leave.

"She's been our best friend for the last six years," admitted Ron, looking conflicted.

"Do you fancy her?" asked Harry bluntly. The tips of Ron's ears burned red, which was enough of an answer. "Fine," said Harry, "I'll let you have her."

Funny, Harry thought as he was sent barrelling through the fire, his answer had only seemed to upset Ron even more.

Harry was sent crashing into a table as he tumbled out of the fireplace. A few people looked his way, shaking their heads.

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione, appearing quite amused at his misfortune.

Harry stood up and dusted himself off. "Oh yeah, I fall out of fireplaces for fun all the time, you know. Now, who's buying the first drink? I'll have something strong and stiff, like myself."

Hermione's lip curled in disgust and she shook her head of bushy brown hair. "We really need to work on your tact, Harry."

Harry would have replied, but Ron suddenly shot out of the fireplace and completely flattened him. They went arse over tit over a chair and Harry ended up staring right into Ron's left nostril.

"I hope that's your wand in your pocket, Ron," said Harry, squirming from under Ron's heavy frame.

"It was!" Ron was very red in the face as he jumped to his feet.

"Let's go," said Hermione, spinning on her heel and leading them out of the pub. They came to a wall and she tapped a few bricks with her wand in an obvious pattern, and then the wall opened up into a winding alley. Hermione turned to Harry expectantly. "Well, what do you think?"

Harry couldn't stop grinning. "Holy shit, would you look at her?"

"What?" asked Hermione, perplexed.

"Blonde hair, older than what I'd usually go for, but damn! I think she's another veela!" Harry strode down the alley, intent on introducing himself.

"Oh God," said Hermione as she saw who he was heading towards. She and Ron scurried after their friend. "Harry, stop!"

Harry ignored her. He finally reached the blonde woman and gave her his best smile, which she recoiled from. "Hi, I'm Harry. May I just say—"

"Harry," hissed Hermione, clamping a hand over his mouth. She looked awkwardly at Narcissa Malfoy. "Um…"

A wide-eyed Narcissa hurried away without saying a word and Hermione sagged in relief. Ron was openly laughing.

"Harry, please, _please_ try to act normal!" begged Hermione.

Harry wasn't listening, though. "Hermione!" he whined. "I was in with a chance there!"

Ron guffawed. "Oh, mate. This is great! Don't you know who she is?"

Hermione looked at him like he was stupid. "Of course he doesn't, you idiot!"

"Oh yeah…" said Ron sheepishly.

"Wait," said Harry nervously. "She's not forty is she?"

Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead. "Harry, you killed her husband three months ago!"

"Huh," said Harry with a shrug. "Even more reason for me to talk to her, then. You know, I can console her, maybe offer a warm embrace."

Hermione looked like she was going to be sick.

"Maybe we should go home," suggested Ron, eyeing Harry like he was crazy. "Before he starts a riot or something."

"But we've just got here," complained Harry, when he spotted the brightest shop in Diagon Alley. His eyes lit up. "I want to go there."

Hermione and Ron whipped around to see where he was pointing and dread filled each of them.

"Oh no," said Hermione in dawning horror, but it was too late; Harry was already striding towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Joke Shop. She turned to Ron in despair. "What are we going to do with him?"

Ron shrugged helplessly. "I say we sit back and enjoy the ride, and maybe do damage control before things get out of hand."

"Try not to let him out of either of our sights," instructed Hermione. "Who knows what he'll do otherwise."

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "That'll be difficult in the castle. Let's just hope Hogwarts is still standing by the time we graduate."


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

"You're a werewolf!"

Remus shuffled his feet, unsure how to respond. He started and stopped a few times before he said, "I am."

Harry lips split into a grin. "That's awesome! Wait until I'm back at Hogwarts, so I can learn how to become an Animagus, and we can have some adventures on the full moon."

Remus blinked in a somewhat dazed state. When he'd heard Harry had finally woken up from his coma, he'd been ecstatic, but then he'd been told about the loss of memory. He'd feared the worst, thinking Harry would retreat into himself, become depressed and antisocial, but that wasn't the case. If anything, the complete loss of all his memories had made Harry into someone completely new. Gone was the quiet, almost shy teenager, replaced with a young man who knew no limits or discretion. It was enough to make Remus' head spin.

They were in the Burrow's living room. The Weasley's had given them some privacy and were in the garden, preparing it for the night's dinner outside.

"Harry," said Remus hesitantly. "If you can't remember anything, how will you learn to become an Animagus? It isn't something that you can do with a wave of your wand – it's not that simple."

Harry scoffed and waved his worries away. "You underestimate me, Remus. Just you wait."

Remus nodded uncertainly. Perhaps it was worse than he'd first feared – maybe Harry had become delusional, thinking himself capable of great feats when he actually knew less magic than a first year.

"If you need help this year, Harry, I'll be going back and forth to Hogwarts from time to time," said Remus. Minerva had asked him to come back as soon she'd heard the news. Harry needed him, she'd said, and he fully agreed.

"Tell me," said Harry, waving a hand between them, "how do we know each other? Hermione mentioned something about my father, but I've kind of stopped listening to her when she drones on. She doesn't half talk a lot, I tell you. I've been thinking about creating a charm that plays music only the caster can hear, but keeps the right expression on your face. Hey!" Harry smiled brightly. "Maybe the twins will be able to create it! I'll ask them later; they're coming over for dinner."

Remus couldn't stop gaping. He shook his head and moved his jaw to get it working. "I was best friends with your dad, yes," he said finally, deciding to ignore everything else Harry had said.

"Do you like beer?" asked Harry suddenly.

Remus blinked again. "Um, yes."

"Then follow me," said Harry, jumping out of the chair.

Remus followed his best friend's son up the stairs, and he couldn't help but think Harry had actually gone mad. He skipped between subjects without even bothering to acknowledge they'd been talking about something else, his smile never seemed to waver, and … well … he was acting rather bizarrely.

Harry ushered Remus into his bedroom, and Remus stopped in surprise. There was a pool table sitting in the middle of the room, and an ice box on the windowsill, which was overflowing with bottles of beer.

"Harry, where did you get this?" asked Remus, running his hand along the red cloth of the table and picking up a pool cue. "It must have cost you a bit of money, too!"

"Got it in Diagon," said Harry dismissively, taking two beers out of the ice box, one of which he passed to Remus. "Bloke in the shop said I could have it for free because I defeated Voldemort or something."

Remus looked at him in amazement. "Someone just gave you a pool table?"

"Oh no, this was something Arthur found through work," said Harry as he racked up the balls. "Some wizard cursed it—" he started giggling, "—so every time a Muggle took a shot, the pockets would jump out of the way!"

Harry guffawed, but Remus simply smiled. "Then how are we going to play?"

"Oh, don't worry, Arthur cancelled the charm," said Harry. He took a sip of his beer and gestured to the pool table. "It's working fine now. Go on, you can break."

Remus bent down, lined up the cue, and shot. The balls scattered, but nothing went down any of the table's six pockets. Remus got up as Harry prepared to take his first shot, and he took a look around the room.

"Where did you the speakers from?"

Harry glanced at the wall, where a set of speakers were sitting on a shelf. "They're Fred and George's, but they said I could keep them."

Harry potted one red, but he missed his second. Remus chalked his cue and got down to play.

"So tell me," said Remus, pausing to hit the cue ball. It hit the yellow, sending it into the middle left pocket. "How have you been handling things? You seem to be doing great."

Harry nodded in agreement. "The only thing that could make it better is if Fleur would come over. I've been thinking about inviting her to a game of pool the next time I see her."

Remus hid his amusement well. "Harry," he said, "you know she's going out with Bill."

Harry pouted. "Do you know if she has a sister?"

"She does, but she's far too young for you."

"How old is she?" demanded Harry in a loud enough voice that Remus jumped and accidentally hit the white ball before he meant to, sending it crashing into the pack of balls.

"She's fifteen," said Remus.

"Fifteen, eh?" Harry snorted and got down to take his shot. "When is she sixteen?"

"I don't know," admitted Remus, watching Harry sink another red. A second later he potted another one.

Remus sipped his beer, feeling a bit better about things. Hermione had mentioned there was no getting through to Harry, but maybe, Remus thought, this was just who Harry was now. It was about becoming familiar with him again, just as Harry was becoming familiar with them.

"If I can't find a veela," said Harry, "I suppose I'd settle for a Metamorphmagus."

Remus choked on his beer and violently spluttered.

* * *

Harry was half asleep, wishing he had his wand so he could drown out the racket the birds were making. The sun was shining through the window, which meant another lovely summer's day had arrived.

The door opened and Fred and George walked in.

"Hey, Harry," said George loudly, and he gave a flick of his wand. The blanket covering Harry suddenly came to life, tied him up into a tight ball, and hovered above the pool table.

Fred whistled through his teeth as he looked around. "Love what you've done with the place, Harry."

"I couldn't agree more," said George.

Harry could only wonder what had just happened. He thought maybe this was the way Fred and George always treated him, so he went along with it.

"Help yourselves to a beer," offered Harry. "I would get it for you, but I appear to be hovering in the fetus position."

"Later, Harry," said Fred. "Now get your skinny arse dressed and join us outside for a game of Quidditch. It's about time we see if you can still play."

The twins left without saying another word, and Harry landed with a thump on the pool table. Thankfully it didn't collapse. After untangling himself and finally getting dressed, he wandered downstairs and found the clan of Weasley's eating breakfast. Sadly, Fleur hadn't come over for breakfast.

"Help yourself, dear," said Molly over her shoulder, from where she was frying bacon.

"I had the weirdest dream," announced Harry as he sat down. Everyone turned to him expectantly; some of them even looked nervous. "There I was, minding my own business, when some guy named Cedric pops out of nowhere and gives me his blessing to go out with his ex-girlfriend." Harry snorted, missing the astonished looks he was receiving. "I said to him, I don't need any help in that department, thank you very much, and certainly not from a pretty boy like you."

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. "Do you know what this means, Harry? Your memories are returning."

Harry suddenly became white as a sheet. "Wait, is Cedric real? Did he really give me his blessing?"

"Nah, mate," said Ron, shaking his head, "he's dead."

A collective wince spread around the table at Ron's bluntness, but Harry sagged in relief.

"Oh, thank fuck for that," he said, to Molly's admonishment, which he ignored. "I thought for a moment I'd been in a threesome with another guy." He shivered violently.

As one, everyone stopped eating, including Ron.

Hermione gently put down her fork. "Thank you very much of that image, Harry."

Harry bit into a sausage. "So, Bill," he said, and the man in question grimaced. "Where's the lovely Miss Delacour today?"

"Quidditch!" shouted Ron, and he dragged Harry into the garden before he could start an argument.

A number of the Weasley brothers joined them, while Hermione wandered outside with her nose in a book, claiming she was researching something or other.

"Let's pick captains," said Ron.

"Before we do, can someone tell me what Quidditch is?" asked Harry. He received astonished looks from everyone but Hermione, but that was only because she hadn't heard him. "What?" he defended himself. "I have lost my bloody memories you know!"

Charlie chuckled into his hand. "Sorry, Harry. I thought Ron would've told you all about it by now."

"I did!" said an indignant Ron.

Harry nodded in agreement. "He did, but Hermione was wearing a low-cut blouse and I kind of got distracted. You know how it is."

Hermione sniffed and pressed her nose deeper into her book. Fred and George laughed heartily.

"Right," said Ron slowly. "You can play Seeker, Harry. Just catch the Snitch, okay?"

Harry looked at the Snitch Ron was holding between his forefinger and thumb and nodded. "How hard can it be?"

"Yeah, it's always been easy for you," said Ron. "Bill and Charlie, you be captains."

"Then I choose you, Harry," said Bill immediately. "I don't care if you don't know the rules," he said to the surprised looks. "You didn't know how to play in your first year from what Ron told me, so I'm sure you've still got it."

"I guess that leaves me with you then, Ron," said Charlie.

"Fred," said Bill.

The game started, but Harry wasn't all that sure what he (or anyone else) was doing. There were two hoops, one each on opposite sides of the small field they were on, and Ron, Bill, and the twins were throwing a red ball between themselves, which they tried to get into the hoops. Charlie was a Seeker, too, which Harry discovered was all about aimlessly flying around.

Halfway through the game, Harry spotted the Snitch. He immediately chased after it, surprised to find it was faster than he'd thought.

"Go on, Potter!" cheered Bill.

Harry stretched out his arm, startled when Charlie bumped him, when a flash of silvery blonde hair caught his eye. He looked down and saw Fleur speaking to Hermione. Harry immediately abandoned the chase for the Snitch.

"You can have it, Charlie," said Harry, diverting his broomstick towards the ground.

"What's he doing?" howled Bill, but it soon became obvious to them all.

"Hey, Fleur," said Harry, hovering in front of the woman, "do you fancy a ride on my—"

"Harry!" said an alarmed Hermione. "Please don't finish that sentence."

Fleur frowned and scrunched up her nose as she tried to work out what he had been about to say, which in Harry's mind made her look adorable.

"Hermione," growled Harry, "will you please stop taking all the veela away from me!"

"I'm so sorry, Fleur … Fleur?"

Hermione and Harry looked around, but Fleur had already left.

"That's your fault," said Harry, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione straightened her back, looking appalled.

"My fault?" she demanded.

Harry nodded sulkily and wandered into the house. As soon as Fleur saw him she jumped out of her chair and disappeared up the stairs.

"What's gotten in to that girl?" Molly wondered aloud.

"French chicks," said Harry, shaking his head. "Beautiful, but barmy."


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

"Whoa! Watch where you're swinging that thing, Ron. You could have had my eye out."

Ron paused what he was doing and looked at the pool cue in his hand. He dearly hoped nobody was eavesdropping on them – Merlin knows what they'd think!

He was in Fred and George's old room, attempting to help Harry pack his trunk, ready for the train journey to Scotland in the morning. The problem was, Harry was refusing to do any work. He'd made some excuse about not being able to use his wand and was now lying back on his bed, arms crossed behind his head, sipping from a bottle of beer.

Harry also wanted to pack everything, including the pool table and ice box, and was directing Ron around the room like he was a house-elf. Ron was forced to grit his teeth and wonder why he hadn't told his best friend to bugger off already.

"Are you sure you need to take this?" asked Ron yet again, eyeing the pool table. No matter how many times he tried, he simply couldn't wrap his mind around the rules of the game. Even worse, he didn't have a clue how Harry understood how to play, seeing as he'd lost all his memories. It just didn't make sense to him. "We'll have Quidditch at Hogwarts, mate, and we'll be so bogged down by homework we probably won't even have time to play."

Harry made a shooing motion with his hand. "Don't worry, Ron, you'll soon learn to love the game." He took another sip of beer. "You said we sleep in a dormitory with three other guys, right? We'll put this bad boy in the room, so it doesn't feel so gay, you know? If anyone asks, we'll just call it male bonding time."

"Right…" said Ron, not really understanding any of that, but he didn't understand Harry at all these days.

A month had passed since Harry had been released from St. Mungo's, but Ron wondered how he'd even been released in the first place. Harry was as insane as ever. His mother hated him using that word – insane – but Ron felt it was the perfect word to describe Harry nowadays.

He wasn't a crackpot like Dumbledore had been, nor was he a raving lunatic like Voldemort … no, Harry had a unique brand of nuttiness. Tactless and blunt, it was as though he didn't have a filter between his brain to his mouth. Talking to him always proved to be difficult; if Harry didn't like the topic of conversation, he'd change it without warning. If that wasn't enough, it was as though he was constantly thinking about sex.

Another thing Ron simply couldn't fathom was Harry's constant cheerful mood. He'd dealt with Harry's tempers tantrums over the years, but his new happy-go-lucky attitude was really starting to get on his nerves.

All in all, it was enough to drive Ron mad.

"If I could just have my wand back," bemoaned Harry. "But no, Hermione bloody insists I need to be assessed first. Do you know what she needs?" He looked at Ron hopefully. "That girl needs a good old fashioned shag."

Ron forced himself not to say anything he'd regret. He concentrated with everything he had and managed to shrink the pool table so it fit inside Harry's trunk. The ice box was already packed away, along with Harry's clothes, books, and all his other possessions.

"So," said Harry, giving Ron one of his sinister grins. That's what Ron liked to call it anyway, because it usually meant he was about to say something that made Ron want to crawl into a deep hole and never come out. "Have you and Hermione done the dirty yet?"

Once again, Ron tried not to wish his best friend was still in hospital.

"You know she doesn't fancy me, Harry," Ron said through gritted teeth. It was a sore topic with him, which Harry knew, but that didn't stop him bringing it up. "I used to think she might," Ron admitted in a rare moment of honesty. He sat down on the edge of Harry's mattress. "But she told me last night she didn't think we'd ever work out."

"I imagine if you two ever got married, you'd have to have marriage counselling every other weekend."

"Do you like her?" Ron decided it was best to be blunt.

"Hermione's the type of girl you'd settle down with," said Harry. He didn't even ponder the question, which lead Ron to think he'd already given the matter quite some thought. "You know, she's the girl you marry, have babies with, the whole shebang. You could do far worse. But fuck, Ron, I'm seventeen. I don't even want to think about all that crap until I'm forty. I want to live, mate. I want to see the world."

Ron frowned. "So, is that a yes or a no?"

"I'll tell you in twenty years," said Harry. "Let's wait and see how well her tits hold up first. Don't even get me started on Ginny. I bet she's a little firecracker in the bedroom, all red hot lust and animalistic desire, but in twenty years? She might look like Molly, and who the hell wants that?"

Ron refused to let his anger overcome his common sense – so he blinked, stood up, and walked out of the room without saying a word. He understood why Hermione sometimes felt like crying now.

Back in the bedroom, Harry was staring at the door which Ron had quietly closed as he walked out. "What a funny fellow," he muttered to himself. "Poor bloke probably can't handle his drink."

* * *

It was the big day.

The day Hermione had been dreading for a month had finally arrived. For the first time she could remember, she was glad of the Weasley's notoriously poor time-keeping. She knew Harry would encounter the rest of the student body sooner rather than later, but she hoped that being late would mean there wouldn't be any dawdling.

They'd gotten through breakfast without any trouble, thanks to Mrs Weasley making enough food for Harry to ignore everyone else and concentrate on eating. But now they were standing at the fireplace, ready to Floo to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Hermione had never been more nervous.

Harry was grinning from ear to ear. "Well? What are we waiting for?"

Ron stepped forward, offering Hermione a comforting smile. It didn't work. The fire flared green as Ron disappeared, and Harry went a second later, followed by Hermione. It was the first time Molly wasn't going with them, having said her goodbyes earlier.

Hermione stepped out on to the platform, the sun bright in her eyes, and saw Ron hurrying Harry on to the train. She sighed, relieved. Step one was complete. She rushed to catch up with them, not stopping to speak to anyone.

Ron had managed to find an empty compartment near the front of the train. It was where the younger years usually sat, and Hermione suspected Ron had thrown some poor first year out, but she wasn't going to complain.

Hermione was tense as they waited for the Hogwarts Express to start, but it pulled out of the station uneventfully. Now came the moment she was dreading. She stood up, already dressed in her robes, Head Girl badge gleaming.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron.

"I'm Head Girl, Ron," said Hermione exasperatedly. She glanced warily at Harry, who was staring out of the window, a bored look on his face. In her mind, the thought of leaving him in Ron's hands was as good as leaving him unattended.

"Oh," said Ron, frowning. His eyes flickered to Harry, obviously thinking along the same lines as she was. "Please don't be long."

The pleading look in his eyes would have amused her before, but it only made her anxious now. "I'll be as fast as I can," she promised, hoping her voice wasn't betraying her nervousness.

Hermione was halfway out of the door when Harry suddenly said, "Wait. I didn't know you were Head Girl. Why didn't you say anything before?"

Hermione was speechless for a moment, appalled that he didn't know. "I did tell you!"

"Did you?" asked Harry, frowning. "I can't remember that."

Hermione huffed. "Well, I did."

Harry's eyes raised to the ceiling, and his nose scrunched up. Hermione waited impatiently for him to remember.

"It was the day we had our letters," she reminded him.

"Aha!" Harry's eyes lit up, but Hermione's hopes that he actually did remember were dashed when he added, "That was the day you wore those tight shorts, wasn't it? You should wear them more often; your arse looked great."

Hermione was struck speechless for the second time in as many minutes. She tried to control her rising ire, reminded herself that she should be used to Harry's new personality by now, but it didn't stop the low growl escape her lips.

Harry got a mischievous look on his face. "Say, does this mean you'll be getting your own private bedroom? Perhaps we can put your new title of _Head _girl to good use."

Ron stared at him, wide-eyed, and Hermione's lips parted, which was a mistake.

"Yes, just like that!" crowed Harry gleefully.

Ron looked faintly green and his lips moved for a second with any sound coming out, until he managed to get out, "Just go, Hermione. I can handle him."

Hermione dearly hoped he could. She would be stuck in the meeting for most of the train ride, and who knew how much chaos Harry could cause in those few hours.

The compartment door closed as Hermione left, and Harry turned to Ron. "Well, what do we usually do on the way to Hogwarts?"

"Not much," admitted Ron, shrugging. "We used to play some chess, but you hate that now."

Harry didn't say anything for a while. He stretched out his legs and twiddled his thumbs as he looked around the compartment, obviously trying to think of something to do. Finally, he stood up.

"I'm as bored as a monk in a brothel," he declared. "Come on, let's go exploring."

Harry was out of the compartment before Ron could even get a word out, and he scrambled out of his seat to follow him. Harry was striding down the corridor, peering into every compartment as he passed.

"It's just a train, Harry," said Ron, furiously trying to think of a way to stop him going any further. "There's nothing exciting happening here."

Harry scoffed at that. "It's a train chock-a-block full of teenagers, Ron. There has to be something going on here."

Ron continued trying to stop him, but it was no use. They reached the back of the train, where most of the older students were sitting. Before Ron could stop him, Harry pulled a door open and strode inside a compartment.

"Hello, ladies," he said, smiling brightly.

"Potter!" Seamus Finnigan jumped to his feet in surprise.

Along with Seamus, the compartment was filled by his best friend, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, and the Patil twins.

"All right, Irish?" Harry greeted Seamus. "Don't mind if we join your little party, do you?" He turned to Ron and said, in a loud voice, "Hey, do you know if there's such a thing as Indian veela?"

Ron winced, trying to apologise to Parvati and Padma with his eyes, but he didn't see the anger he expected from them. They were looking shocked, but if anything, they radiated happiness.

"Not that I know of," said Ron through gritted teeth.

"Well, there must be," said Harry, grinning lewdly at Patil twins. "You have to be Indian veela. You're too perfect not to be."

The girls giggled. Ron couldn't believe what Harry was saying, and nor could he believe the girls were eating it up.

"Budge up," said Harry, plonking himself in the non-existent gap between the twins. Dean was forced off the end of the seat. "Now that Hermione's not here to stop me, maybe I can finally get somewhere."

"I'm sorry." Ron felt it needed to be said. "You probably know he lost his memory. Well, as you can see, the accident changed him. He still can't remember anything."

Parvati completely ignored Ron. She was intently gazing at Harry and nibbling on her bottom lip, as though she was seconds away from pouncing on him then and there.

"Come on, Harry," said Ron again.

"He's staying with me," said Parvati in a low voice.

Harry leant in to kiss her, when the compartment door was flung open. Draco Malfoy stopped short at seeing the position Harry was in, but quickly shook off his surprise.

"I hear you've lost your mind, Potter," he drawled, but his usual smirk looked fixed and his eyes didn't hold so much hatred. Ron could understand why; his dad had been killed only a few months ago (although Draco didn't know it was Harry who did it). "Although you didn't have much of one to begin with."

Harry looked at Draco. "Who the hell are you?"

Draco puffed himself up, some of his old swagger returning. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry snorted and looked to Ron. "Do I know him?"

"Remember that woman you tried chatting up in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago?" Ron didn't bother hiding his amusement. "That's his mother. He's a right git."

Malfoy looked outraged.

"The woman whose husband I killed, you mean?" asked Harry.

Silence reigned in the compartment. Malfoy's face steadily got redder and a murderous look appeared in his eyes.

"I'll kill you, Potter."

Harry stood up and, before anyone could stop him, he punched Malfoy right on the nose. The blonde boy staggered back, only managing to stay on his feet because he fell back into Goyle's arms.

"Holy shit," said Seamus, staring in awe at Harry.

"Send your mother my love," said Harry, before he slammed the door in Malfoy's face. He turned back around and smiled at Parvati like nothing had happened. "Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

Parvati grinned coyly. "I believe you were about to kiss me, Harry."

Feeling completely flabbergasted, Ron watched Harry kiss her. It wasn't just a peck on the lips, either; it was a full blown tongue-wrestling match. Within seconds, Parvati was flat on her back, her legs wrapped around Harry's midsection. Her hands were in his hair, messing it up worse than usual, and she was loudly moaning beneath him.

Ron just stood there, wondering how on earth Harry had managed to get one of the prettiest girls in school into such a position with only a few words. He wasn't the only one staring. Seamus and Dean looked like they'd found a new hero; Padma was biting her bottom lip, intently watching, as though jealous she wasn't getting in on the action. Lavender was the only one who wasn't looking at them – she was eyeing Ron up and down instead.

"Well, you have to admit it," said Dean, breaking the silence. "He works bloody fast."

Seamus nodded, and then shook his head in disbelief.

Ron flopped into the seat. "I give up with him."

Harry and Parvati continued to furiously kiss for the rest of the train ride. The conversation eventually became less awkward and, for the most part, everyone ignored what was happening.

Ron was dreading Hermione's reaction when she found out he'd let Harry do what he wanted. He'd thought the past few years had been eventful, but he was bracing himself for the craziest year yet. They hadn't even got to Hogwarts yet and already he was unsure how much more he could take.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five **

It was the seventh time Ron had taken the Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts, but he'd never been more grateful for the train to arrive in Hogsmeade station. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief as he waited for the doors to open. The journey had started out so well. He'd managed to get Harry on the train without any fuss, and he'd found an empty compartment in the section where the little kiddies sat.

The peace and quiet hadn't lasted, and truthfully, he hadn't expected it to. As soon as Hermione had left, he'd known he was doomed.

He'd managed to drag Harry away from Parvati for all of a few minutes, so they could change into robes. Harry had thrown the robes over his shoulders and burst back into the compartment, jumping on a half-naked Parvati. She hadn't cared that her robes were riding above her caramel thighs, dangerously close to showing everything that teenage boys could only dream about. Only a lacy purple thong had hidden her modesty – barely.

The rain was lashing it down in Hogsmeade, swirling in the roaring wind and slapping against the train. Ron wondered where Hermione was and if she'd looked for him. Right now, he'd never wanted her more. If he closed his eyes he could just imagine her body wrapped around his, as they fell asleep on cotton sheets, listening to the thunderstorm raging outside.

Ron's daydream was soon cut short.

"I bet you fuck like a tiger, don't you?"

Harry's words drifted into his ears, and he barely suppressed a groan. It was Harry Potter – he could get away with saying things like that. If he, Ron Weasley, ever uttered something even close to that, he'd be on the receiving end of a slap, at the very least.

Parvati giggled, but it wasn't in the way he'd come to expect after hearing it for the last six years. It didn't sound childish, or even flirtatious in a teenage girl kind of way. Ron turned his head to see her, standing next to Harry, her head resting on his shoulder. They were looking directly into each other's eyes.

Lust – it made all the difference in the world.

Crushes were for schoolgirls. Lust was for grown women who knew exactly what they wanted, and Parvati knew exactly what she wanted. Before, Ron might have stepped in, might have stopped a shy Harry trying desperately to say no. Now, he knew Harry was loving every second of her attention.

The doors slid open and they ran to the Thestral-drawn carriages, their footsteps splashing in deep puddles, spraying muddy water over fresh robes. Harry and Parvati ran hand-in-hand next to Ron, and were the first ones to enter the cover of the carriage. Ron slipped in after Harry, shaking his head as he saw they were kissing once more.

Seamus jumped in, followed by Dean, and then Lavender and Padma joined them. They all ignored Harry and Parvati, for the most part.

"Still going strong, are they?" said Seamus, rolling his eyes.

Once they reached Hogwarts, they stopped kissing and climbed out of the carriage together, walking arm-in-arm to the castle. Ron trailed behind them, watching as Harry muttered something in her ear, making her laugh and give him a lingering kiss that was full of hidden promises.

"This is going to get old," muttered Ron.

They reached the Great Hall and Ron took a seat next to Harry. He and Parvati had started kissing again. Hermione had yet to enter the Hall, but Ron knew it was only a matter of time before she did. Dean, Seamus, and Lavender sat down opposite them; Padma was sitting at the Ravenclaw table.

"Hey, who's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Lavender wondered aloud.

Ron looked towards the staff table, surprised to find Remus sitting there. He was watching Harry with a bemused expression on his face, although he was smiling. Ron didn't have to wonder why or how he was back; he was there for Harry.

"Hey, it's Lupin," said Dean.

"Is it?" Lavender squinted. "Oh yeah. I didn't recognise him for a moment."

Ron couldn't understand how she didn't recognise a teacher she'd had for a year. It wasn't as though Remus had changed all that much since he'd taught them; he still wore threadbare robes, and though his hair was more grey nowadays, it wasn't enough to give him an entirely new look.

Hermione suddenly sat down next to Ron, muttering, "I'm so sorry, Ron. I got stuck in the meeting until we arrived at the station. I didn't realise it would take so long. Did you manage– are you all right?"

Ron swallowed thickly, suddenly finding it hard not to laugh. She'd seen the fear in his eyes, and now he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He leant back, allowing Hermione to see Harry. Her lips parted and her eyebrows jumped up her forehead.

"How on earth did that happen?" She looked at Ron accusingly. "And why didn't you stop him?"

Ron snorted. "I did try, but you know what he's like these days. I might as well have been talking to the wall."

"But … but … how did he manage it so fast?"

"He charged into the compartment and said she and Padma had to be Indian veela, because there was no other way to explain how they were so perfect." Ron wondered if Harry had meant it; the Patil twins were absolutely stunning, no doubt about it, but veela were the very essence of perfection.

Hermione's lip curled in disgust. "They believed that?"

"What do you think?"

Malfoy slipped into the Hall, obviously trying to be discreet and utterly failing. His bright blond hair stood out like a candle in a pitch black room. Ron snickered – he couldn't help it – upon noticing the way Malfoy's nose was bent across his cheek. He'd almost forgotten about that.

"Oh yeah," said Ron, "Harry punched him."

"Punched who?" demanded Hermione, her eyes widening in alarm.

Ron just nodded towards Malfoy, who had taken his seat at the Slytherin table, his back to them. He hadn't once looked in their direction.

Surprisingly, Hermione didn't say anything more. Maybe it was because, at that very moment, the doors burst open. Ron, however, thought it was because she was remembering the time she had punched the git.

Snape was leading a group of terrified first years into the Hall, his black eyes daring anyone to utter a word.

Ron was horrified. "Who in their right mind would give Snape that job?"

"Someone has to do it, but it's not a job for the headmistress," said Hermione.

Harry stopped kissing Parvati and looked around. "That's Snape, is it?" he said, and his loud snort resounded off the walls. "He looks like one of those two sickle whores in Knockturn Alley."

Snape stumbled on his cloak and blotches of red appeared on his pallid cheeks. A disbelieving silence fell over the Hall, and Snape sent his most vicious glare towards Harry.

"What did you say?" His whisper carried to every corner of the room, terrifying the kids behind him.

Harry never even noticed. He'd gone back to kissing Parvati, completely missing the disgusted look on Snape's face. His already pale lips had disappeared almost entirely, and he strode up to the front of the Hall.

Ron couldn't help wondering how Harry even knew what Knockturn alley was, let alone what the whores looked like.

"Wait a second," said Hermione. "If Remus is back, who is teaching what subjects?"

"Well he's teaching Defence – obviously," said Ron, shaking his head. "Slughorn was killed, wasn't he, so Snape's gone back to his dungeon lair."

"Then who's teaching Transfiguration?" Hermione looked like she was on the verge of tears. McGonagall was her favourite professor, but she was now Headmistress. "How didn't I think of this before?"

Ron didn't particularly care; Snape had no power over them anymore – not really. Yes, he had killed Dumbledore, but on the man's own orders. Everyone, including the Aurors, agreed it had actually won them the war. Snape's knowledge of when Voldemort would attack Hogsmeade had given Harry the chance to catch him off guard and win.

Thus, Snape was cleared of all charges, yet still as universally despised as ever.

"Adams, Charles," said Snape, making the name sound like a particularly vicious curse.

Ron ignored the dark haired boy trembling up to the sorting hat, and looked to the staff table. There were two empty seats, one of which Snape would sit in. Who would sit in the other was anybody's guess. An uneasy feeling settled within him, which didn't disappear until Snape had finished the sorting in record time and McGonagall stood up to give her speech.

She surveyed them with sharp eyes. She was a world of difference from Dumbledore.

"Now that war is no longer darkening our doorstep, I realise many of you will feel the need to sacrifice your studies in favour of celebration," said McGonagall, and stopped only because her eyes landed on Harry. For a moment, she simply stared. Then, her eyes narrowed. "Or perhaps you will feel you no longer need to listen to your professors when they are talking to you."

Harry continued doing what he was doing – which was kissing a pretty girl – and didn't even flinch when he realised he was being talked to.

"Sorry 'bout that, Professor," he said, sending her a grin.

Unbelievably, McGonagall let it go. She also appeared to forget what she'd been saying, as the food arrived seconds later.

Halfway through dinner, a sinister grin made its way onto Harry's lips. Ron paled, unable to tear his eyes away as he watched Harry scoop a dollop of mashed potato onto his fork. But Ron's fear disappeared instantly when he realised what was about to happen, and he was far too amused to stop what was coming.

Harry bent the fork back, closed one eye and took aim. As though from a slingshot, the mashed potato soared through the air, over Seamus's head, and landed with a splat straight on the back of Malfoy's head.

Malfoy leapt out of his seat, sending a goblet of pumpkin juice flying straight into Pansy's lap. She screeched at Malfoy, her cheeks scarlet in rage.

Harry roared with laughter, thumping the table with his fist. It was such a contagious nose that Ron couldn't help but join in, and before long, the whole of Gryffindor was laughing, too.

Malfoy and Pansy burned with embarrassment, but there was little they could do in revenge with the professors intently watching them all. They were forced to sit back down and seethe.

After dinner, McGonagall sent them back to their Common Room. Ron couldn't wait to slip beneath his duvet and get some sleep. It had been a long day, and the days were only going to get longer.

The log fire had already been lit, as usual, when the Gryffindors entered the Common Room. Ron yawned as he crossed the room, about to climb the stairs when he realised Harry wasn't by his side. He had a fair idea where he was, though, and … yep, sure enough, Harry's lips were on Parvati's.

Ron just shook his head and climbed the stairs. His four-poster bed, with its heavy scarlet drapes looked so inviting that he flopped onto the mattress without removing his clothes. He didn't care. His pillow was so soft against his cheek, and he was drifting off to sleep, his thoughts filled with images of Hermione.

But his traitorous mind conjured up a vision of Hermione, smiling demurely, wearing only the denim shorts that Harry had liked so much. And suddenly, Ron saw Harry standing behind her, grinning that sinister grin as he made a thrusting motion with his hips, while giving Ron a thumbs-up.

A loud thud jolted Ron fully awake. He blinked rapidly, heart racing, when he heard humming, and then another thud.

"What the—" Ron sat up and should have expected what he saw. "Can't you wait until tomorrow, Harry?"

Harry had dumped the entire content of his trunk onto his bed.

"Oh good, I thought you were sleeping," said Harry. "Here, put this pool table back to its right size."

"Harry," whined Ron. "It's late and I'm tired."

"Don't be such a girl," said Harry, scoffing. "Have a beer with us guys."

Ron pressed his palms into his eyes. Hermione could complain all she wanted, but at least she didn't have to share a dorm with Harry.

"Ah! There's the little bugger."

Harry had found the ice box, and was sharing the beers out with Seamus and Dean. Neville hadn't arrived yet. Ron grabbed his wand and returned the pool table to its original size. It now sat in the middle of the room, taking up too much space.

"Everyone know how to play?" asked Harry, and he received nods from Seamus and Dean. "Good. Dean, you're with me. Rack 'em up, Ron!"

Harry shoved a beer into Ron's hands, and he forced himself to take a sip and drag himself out of bed, to sarcastic cheers. He really wasn't in the mood.

By the time the first frame of pool was over, Ron had finished his beer. He and Seamus had lost badly, but Ron hadn't really been trying anyway. He was sorely mistaken when he thought that would be the end of the night.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Harry, grabbing Ron by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from his bed. "The night's just beginning."

Dean put up a Silencing Charm, which covered the whole room. It was obvious why when Seamus pulled out his wireless, and soon the dormitory was filled with the sound of rock music.

The door opened. Neville walked in and nearly jumped out of his size twelve shoes as the music hit him.

"Neville Longbottom!" shouted Seamus.

"What's going on here?" asked Nev, crossing the room to his bed.

"Never mind that," said Dean. "Where have you been?"

Neville puffed out his chest, and it was only then that Ron noticed the shiny badge on his robes.

"I had a meeting with McGonagall and Hermione," he said. "I'm Head Boy – can you believe it?"

Ron simply stared. When had Neville grown up? Where had that shy eleven year old boy gone?

Neville suddenly frowned as he looked to Harry. "I'm sure it would have gone to you, Harry, had you not had your – um – accident."

"Ha!" The thought of being Head Boy clearly disgusted Harry. "No, thank you."

Neville didn't know what to make of that.

"So," he said, "where did this come from?" He indicated the pool table. "And what is it, anyway?"

"A pool table," said Ron. "Don't worry, I don't understand it, either."

"Wait!" Harry's shout made them wince. "Does this mean the Heads don't have private rooms?"

Neville shook his head. "Um, no. Should we?"

"Huh," said Harry. "You want a beer?"

Neville eyed the beer critically. "I'm not sure alcohol is allowed."

Harry scoffed again. "Oh, no. You're not one of those, are you?"

Neville's cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, just give it here."

Sometime later, Ron was starting to feel a bit woozy, his tiredness and the alcohol catching up with him. He might have been drowsy, but Harry was still going strong.

Harry had made them play a drinking game, which had rather simple rules. If you missed a shot at pool, you had to drink. Of course, Ron and Neville could hardly hold a cue and were dreadful at the game, thus they'd drunk nearly twice as much as Harry, Seamus, and Dean.

"Rack 'em up!"

"It's half twelve, Harry," said Ron, groaning. "I need to sleep. We need to be awake at seven."

Harry, of course, just scoffed again. "Don't be silly. I've got a much better idea."

Ron dropped his head into his hands. "What is it?"

"I want to go and see the girls."

Before anyone could so much as blink, Harry had bolted out of the room. Ron looked around the room; Neville was passed out on his bed, the lucky bastard. Dean and Seamus were swaying, their eyes glazed over and half-lidded.

The three of them went to find Harry and found him waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He was wide awake and huffed at them.

"Come on," he said, and started to walk up the girls' staircase, when suddenly the stairs disappeared, turning into a slide. Harry lost his balance, fell flat on his arse, and slid down, coming to a stop at Ron's feet.

"What the hell?" demanded Harry.

"We're not allowed up there," said Dean, grinning at Harry's misfortune.

"Well you could've told me that was going to happen," said Harry, climbing to his feet. He eyed the staircase. "So, how do we get up there?"

"We don't," Ron said forcefully.

"Don't you want to go and see Hermione, Ronnie?" Harry said, sniggering.

Ron managed to control his blush. "She's the last person you want to see right now, Harry."

"Don't worry, I've got an even better idea. I'll be right back."

Harry turned around and ran back up the boys' staircase. He was only gone for a few moments, when he came back down, a firework clutched in his grasp.

"No," Ron frantically pleaded. "Please, Harry, you'll wake up the whole bloody castle. And you'll start a fire!"

"Of course I won't," said Harry, shaking his head like Ron was being stupid. "Fred and George planned for that, didn't they? They're safe to use indoors."

It still didn't sit well with Ron, but he had no choice in the matter, as Seamus lit the firework. Harry cackled as he lobbed it up the stairs.

The four boys looked at each other, three of them grinning. Then, as one, they turned around and bolted to their dormitory. They leapt into their beds, and Ron held his breath, waiting for the inevitable, until finally…

**BANG!**

"Merlin!" Neville leapt out of bed, his eyes wide and his wand in hand. "What the hell was that?"

He didn't receive an answer, as they all pretended to be asleep. Neville threw his robes over his head and ran out of the room, nearly tripping over his own feet in his drunken state.

For a moment, all Ron could hear was the sound of his heart and his breathing, but then the girls started shouting. Hermione's voice cut through the panic, ordering everyone back to bed.

Then, in the darkness, came Harry's quiet laughter.

"I've got to be honest, Potter," said Seamus, who was also chuckling, "even though you're a nutcase, you're loads more fun since you had a knock on the head."

Ron couldn't have disagreed more. "He's bloody barmy!"

"Well, yeah," Seamus said. "But you have to admit it's entertaining as hell."

Ron just shook his head.

He wasn't sure when he managed to fall asleep, but his dreams that night were plagued by the sound of Harry's mad cackling.

* * *

**A/N: **It would be awesome if you'd review and let me know what you think of this story so far.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

The seventh year girls' dormitory was quiet, which was just how Hermione liked it. Her four-poster bed was the closest to the window and she always left the hangings open on one side, so she could feel the warmth of the sun on her body. She was usually the first of her roommates to wake up, and she liked to listen to the birds singing and watch the sun rise over the Forbidden Forest.

It was the first day of a new school year, which would usually have Hermione brimming with excitement. She didn't find that at all strange; if anything, she found it extremely odd that others didn't feel the same way, but she'd accepted a long time ago that she was simply different to most. Today, however, was different, and Hermione knew exactly how they felt. For the first time in her life, she was anxious and not at all excited about the upcoming lessons.

There was a very good reason Hermione felt this way: Harry would finally be getting his wand back. The very thought made her grimace. She kicked the covers off her body, allowing the sun to warm her bare legs, and stared at her toes as she tried to control her thoughts.

Professor Dumbledore had personally taught Harry from the beginning of sixth year until the headmaster's death. Harry had told them all it had just been research into Tom Riddle's life, until he'd finally admitted there was more to his lessons than that.

Hermione shook her head, trying to assure herself that everything would be just fine. After all, Harry had no memory of ever casting a simple Levitation Charm, let alone anything that could be considered dangerous. She was just being silly, she told herself, but the nagging doubt that Harry could do something stupid wouldn't leave her brain.

The thought stayed with her until breakfast. She was in the Great Hall, looking through her timetable and nibbling on a slice of toast, when the boy in question finally showed up, with Ron in tow. She couldn't help but stare, and she wasn't the only one. Ron was traipsing towards her, his collar askew, shirt buttons in the wrong holes, and with dark bags under his eyes. Harry's hair was sticking up at all angles, his necktie hanging lose, and he wasn't wearing robes.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at their appearance.

"Mornin'," muttered Ron, not even looking at her as he reached for a plate of bacon.

Harry gave her his most charming smile. "Good morning, Hermione." His tone instantly put her on high alert. Harry rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "Tell me, Hermione – have I ever told you how wonderful you are?"

Ron paused eating and frowned at Harry. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"What do you want, Harry?"

Harry's smile didn't falter for a moment as he said, "Can I please have my wand back?"

Hermione hesitated. This was the moment she'd been dreading; she was sure she'd had a nightmare about it. Harry noticed her reluctance.

"What do I have to do?" he said, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione wondered if he'd learnt that trick from professor Dumbledore. She shook her head to clear the bizarre thought.

"I don't want you to do anything, Harry."

Harry looked left and right, before shrugging to himself. Hermione watched as he slipped under the table and resurfaced next to her, slipping an arm around her waist.

"Just what are you playing at, Harry?" demanded Hermione, slightly flustered as he started rubbing circles along her hip.

Harry's smile widened and he leaned in close to her, his lips only inches from her ear. Hermione felt her body quiver; her toes clenched tightly and she struggled not to tremble. She wondered for a second if Harry had stolen back his wand and cursed her.

"I promise not to do anything you don't want me to do," whispered Harry, his breath hot on her ear.

"You won't charm me, Harry," said Hermione, her lie obvious to her own ears. Harry was doing a remarkably good job of charming her off her feet, and he'd hardly said a damn thing! "Here, you can have your wand back."

Hermione retrieved the wand from her bag and handed it to him. A rush of warmth spread through her body as he squeezed her thigh in thanks, before he suddenly ducked back under the desk and sat back in his original place.

"Cheers, Hermione," he said, winking as he snatched a slice of buttered toast from Ron's stack.

"No … no problem," Hermione managed to say, out of breath. Her cheeks were feeling very warm and her legs were trembling now.

Ron looked at her. "Have we had our timetables yet?"

Hermione was very grateful for the distraction. Harry was looking at her like he knew exactly what she was feeling, and he was loving every second of her discomfort. She handed the boys their timetables and put hers into her bag.

"Double Transfiguration first," grunted Ron. "That should be different without McGonagall, eh, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, his attention obviously elsewhere. He was surveying the room and twirling his wand in his fingers.

"I wouldn't know, mate," he said.

"We have Charms after lunch," said Hermione. She'd already memorised the timetable. "Harry, what on earth has caught your attention?"

Harry was looking across the Hall with one eye closed and the tip of his tongue between his teeth.

"That gorgeous blonde Slytherin girl has caught my attention," said Harry. "So has that curvy brunette, that short girl with the big rack, and Ron's sister."

"Harry!"

"Calm down, Ron," said Harry, chuckling under his breath. "Ginny hasn't even come down to breakfast yet."

"Why are you even looking at other girls, anyway?" asked Ron, frowning. "You've already got Parvati, who's one of the best looking girls in the school."

Harry stopped twirling his wand and slowly lowered it to the table. He turned to Ron and gave him a filthy look.

"Have I taught you nothing, Ron?" Harry stretched his arms out wide. "Look around you, man, there's girls everywhere!"

Ron looked blank.

"It's like fishing," explained Harry. "You go to the water and cast out your _rod_," he winked at Hermione, "and then you'll hook a big ol' fish, but that doesn't mean you stop fishing, does it?"

"But, Harry," bemoaned Ron, "I can't even fish!"

"It's not that difficult," said Harry. "Let me tell you a little secret. Most of these girls have mightily important exams coming up, which will be a very stressful time for them. The pressure will eventually become too much, and that's where I step in, offering to _relieve_ some of that tension for them."

Hermione's skin was burning as she remembered thinking similar thoughts. In fifth year, the OWL's had been coming up, creating tight knots in her body, and all she'd wanted was someone to … give her a helping hand. Hermione flushed even harder as she remembered the long showers she had started taking. In an attempt to hide her scarlet cheeks, she concentrated on eating, but Harry (of course) noticed and couldn't help but comment.

"Hermione knows what I'm talking about!" he said, chortling.

"I have no idea what you mean," said Hermione, refusing to look him in the eye.

She was saved by Ron, who had been deep in thought.

"Hang on a minute," said Ron, his eyes scanning along the table. "If you're seeing Parvati now, what does she think of you looking at other girls?" He looked towards Hermione for help.

"Ron's correct," said Hermione, offering the redhead a smile for actually being considerate to another person's feelings.

"Ron." Harry shook his head and sighed deeply. "You have a lot to learn, my friend."

For once, Hermione disagreed with that statement.

"Harry, you wouldn't cheat on Parvati … would you?"

"I'd say it's pretty hard to cheat on someone who isn't my girlfriend," Harry said. He tipped his goblet towards her, smiling smugly, before taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Hermione eyed him critically. "Parvati isn't your girlfriend? Does she know that?"

"Of course she does," said Harry, snorting. "She agreed we should just be casual."

"Casual?" repeated Hermione dumbly.

"Yes. Casual," said Harry, nodding as he started eating another slice of toast. "Parvati said she had a boyfriend once, but it didn't work, and now she just wants the good part of the relationship. Doesn't want any of the baggage, and I have to say I agree with her."

Ron met Hermione's eyes and shook his head. "Where did you find the time to talk about all of that?" he muttered snidely. "I didn't see you do anything but snog her. I didn't think you even knew her surname."

Harry blinked, confusion entering his eyes. "Huh. Who would've thought it? I don't know her surname." Harry began chewing on his tongue as he looked skywards, as though the answer would present itself in the enchanted ceiling. He completely missed Hermione and Ron gaping at him. "It begins with either a B o think," he murmured. "Ba … Pa … no, it's Ba … aha! I've got it!" Harry punched his arms out in triumph, accidentally flinging his toast down the Gryffindor table, hitting Colin Creevey right between the eyes. "It's Batil. Parvati Batil."

"Patil," Hermione automatically corrected, looking anywhere but towards Colin Creevey, who was looking around in confusion as he clutched his head. That's when she spotted Parvati walking into the Hall. "And speak of the devil, here she comes now."

Harry craned his neck around Ron and smiled widely. "Oh, don't worry, Hermione," he said, sparing Hermione a glance. "There'll always be plenty of room for you in my life. Parvati!"

Parvati came to a stop in front of Harry. Her hair was styled down her back in a way that made Hermione twitch with jealousy.

"Hey, Harry," said Parvati, sliding her arms over Harry's shoulders and planting a firm kiss on his lips. "We'll meet up tonight, yeah?"

"You betcha," said Harry.

Parvati kissed him again before removing her arms from his shoulders. She walked away with a noticeable sway in her hips, which captured Harry's attention.

"You ever seen an arse like that, Ron?" said Harry, sighing. "Fleur doesn't count, of course."

Ron's ears turned pink as he answered, in his best innocent voice, "I wasn't looking, mate."

Hermione scoffed at him and wondered when she'd started partaking in such ridiculous conversations. It was around about the time Harry woke up from his coma. She couldn't remember the last time they'd spoke normally, without him bringing up some ridiculous scheme or boast.

"Harry," she said, wondering where he was going to take the conversation this. "When you say it's casual, what does that even mean? Have you set up limits or boundaries?"

Harry shrugged, but then looked her dead in the eye, completely serious. "Parvati knows you can't keep a noble stallion like myself to one woman."

"Is that right?" said Hermione, dubious.

Harry nodded vigorously. "Some men are born to be workhorses," he said, jabbing a finger at Ron. "Take him as an example. He's my loyal steed."

"Hey!" complained Ron, but he was ignored.

Hermione was amused despite herself and couldn't help asking, even if she knew she'd regret it, "And what does that make me?"

"I suppose you can be my damsel in distress," said Harry, winking at her. "I'll be your knight in shining armour, rescuing you from the clutches of evil redheads."

Ron bristled at the insult. Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"The metaphor is falling apart, Harry. How can you be a knight in shining armour and a stallion?"

Harry bit his lip in thought, before declaring, "I'm an Animagus!"

Ron snorted. "So, you're a horse?"

"Well, I'm hung like a horse as it is," said Harry with a grin. "If you think about it, it only makes sense." He winked at Hermione. "You can ride me any time you want."

Ron started choking on scrambled egg, which Hermione was thankful for, as it took the attention off her. She was blushing so hard, she thought she was about to faint. Harry sent her a knowing smile as he whacked Ron on the back.

"Why don't we head to class?" suggested Hermione.

Ron's eyes were watering heavily and his skin was a blotchy red as he heaved himself to his feet. He muttered to himself under his breath on the walk to Transfiguration, but Hermione ignored him as they entered the classroom.

It was a rather odd feeling, not knowing who would be teaching them. At least in Defence Against the Dark Arts they'd always known beforehand who the professor was. Hermione sat right at the front, lost in her thoughts, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't think so, Hermione," said Harry, who was still standing and looking over her head.

Hermione frowned, watching the silent conversation he was having with Ron. The next thing she knew, Ron placed his hand under her arm, Harry grabbed her other, and they lifted her out of her seat and started carrying her towards the back of the room.

"Put me down," she demanded, squirming in their arms, but their grip held steady.

They reached the back of the classroom and they plonked her in the middle of a three-seated desk, before they sat down either side of her.

"We don't want people thinking we're teacher's pets, Hermione," said Harry scornfully.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to pout, and glared severely at a particular groove in the wooden desk. A sharp intake of breath caught her attention and she looked up sharply. All the blood drained from her face when she saw what had caused Harry's reaction.

Fleur Delacour strode into the classroom, wearing elaborate lilac robes. Her blonde hair shining and nose high in the air, she refused to look anywhere near Harry as she stopped at her desk and faced the class. Her lip curled slightly upon seeing the open-mouthed stares. Hermione was just thankful she wasn't sitting at the front. Harry was slumped in his seat, looking like someone had killed his pet, cancelled Christmas, and told him he'd die a virgin.

"Should've stayed at the front," he moaned piteously.

Hermione shushed him, seeing Fleur was about to start speaking.

"I am sure some of you remember me," she started, lifting a perfect, elegant eyebrow. Her English had improved immeasurably, but her accent hadn't quite disappeared completely. "But for those zat do not, I am Professor Delacour."

Fleur flashed a bright smile that had every male drooling. Hermione scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest again.

"How pathetic can you get?"

Ron had grown somewhat accustomed to Fleur's aura, but he still looked ruddy and flustered in her presence. He raised an eyebrow at Hermione.

"I dunno, Hermione," he said, his lips twitching. "It reminds me of Lockhart."

Hermione's jaw shut with a click and Ron sat back, smug. The only difference between Fleur and Lockhart was Fleur wasn't a fraud. Hermione turned her attention back to the teacher, somewhat abashed, when she noticed Harry. He was half out of his seat and grinning from ear to ear, his dark mood of only minutes before gone. Hermione clamped a hand on his thigh and gave him a warning glare.

"You should 'ave learnt animate to animate Transfiguration by now," Fleur was saying. "By the end of today's lesson, I want everyone to be able to do it perfectly, yes?" Her eyes dared them to disagree and unsurprisingly, no one did. Fleur directed Lavender to hand out the rabbits for them to practice with and only then did she turn her attention to Harry.

"'ave you performed any spells yet, 'Arry?" Fleur looked down at the messy-haired boy, who shook his head. "Zen I want you to perform a simple spell to begin with. Ze 'eadmistress believes you will retain your skills with practice, even if you do not 'ave any memory of them."

Hermione watched with baited breath. Neither her nor Ron were even pretending to do their own work.

"What should I do?" asked Harry, whipping out his wand with an overdramatic flourish. His hands were shaking in anticipation.

Fearing what he would do, Hermione jumped in with her own suggestion. "Why don't you try the first spell we ever learnt in Transfiguration?"

Hermione told him the spell and Fleur placed a matchstick on the desk in front of him.

"I just change it to a needle?" Harry looked decidedly unimpressed. At Hermione's nod, he eyed the match, cleared his throat, and viciously jabbed his wand, as though it had offended his mother. "_Immuto!"_

Nothing happened. Hermione was about to comfort her friend when she noticed, to her amazement, the match started growing. She watched as it steadily turned silver and became the size of a wand. Then, it grew rapidly and before anyone could stop it, it became the size of a spear.

"Whoa…" breathed Ron.

"I meant that," said Harry, but no one believed him.

"Per'aps you need to work on your control, 'Arry," said Fleur. She gave him a small, comforting smile and returned to her desk.

Harry blushed a deep scarlet. "No control, huh? I'll show her," he muttered to himself. He stabbed his wand at the spear and with no other movement or incantation, it instantly shrank back to a needle.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "How on earth did you do that, Harry?"

"I dunno," said Harry. He shrugged it off, but it was obvious he was just as confused as Hermione. "I can't really explain it. It's like the magic is there, in the back of my mind, but it feels … wonky. Does that make any sense?"

It didn't. Not at all.

"Wonky?" Hermione repeated.

"Yeah. Watch." Harry pointed his wand at the needle again. "_Immuto_," he cast, and the needle turned into a matchstick, only it doubled in size. "See, wonky. I don't think I even need to say anything for something so small." He jabbed his wand at the matchstick again and it shrank and switched to a needle. "I can't explain it, really."

"Well, you can obviously do it, you just need to practice," said Hermione encouragingly. "Here, why don't you try something harder?" She placed the rabbit in front of him. "Try changing it from white to black. I won't tell you how, you just have to do it."

Harry eyed her for a moment before shrugging. He pointed his wand at the rabbit, saying nothing. The only movement was the rabbit's nose twitching and then all of a sudden it was as black as Harry's hair.

"It's easy," said Harry, and for once he wasn't bragging, just stating the truth.

Hermione couldn't hide her amazement. For beginners, transfiguration at its most basic level was usually done very slowly. A match _slowly _turned into a needle. The better you became, the faster you could transfigure an object. It was why masters like Dumbledore and McGonagall could make it look instantaneous.

"This is remarkable, Harry! It shouldn't be easy. Not even I can do it as easily as that."

Hermione didn't perform a spell for the rest of the lesson. She was simply too dumbfounded watching Harry perform magic with such ease. He changed the rabbit back to its white colour, before casually changing it into a snowy white owl that looked identical to Hedwig. Then, he lazily flicked his wand and the owl popped into an acoustic guitar. It was even tuned! Ron mentioned always having wanted to learn an instrument, so Harry performed the Geminio Spell (without knowing the spell) and gave it to him. He'd then had the cheek to turn to Hermione and ask her if she wanted one too.

"Hang on a moment, Harry," said Hermione as a random thought popped into her head. "Turn it into a snake. Any one will do."

"When you say a snake," said Harry, eyebrow raised and grin firmly in place, "do you mean—"

"A real snake," interrupted Hermione, trying not to get too flustered.

Harry winked at her, proving he'd said it just to wind her up, and flicked his wand at the guitar. A black snake with white markings popped into existence (a long-nosed viper), coiled on the desk. It raised its head, its tongue flicking out, and its eyes landed on Harry.

"It's beautiful," breathed Harry.

"Speak to it," instructed Hermione. Harry looked at her like she'd just asked him to jump off the Astronomy Tower. "Trust me, Harry. Say something to it."

"Um, hi," said Harry, looking sheepishly at the snake. "The crazy lady next to me asked me to speak to you, but …" his voice trailed off in hisses, but he didn't notice.

The idea had come randomly, but Hermione hadn't truly expected him to still be able to speak the language. She was brought out of her thoughts by Harry forcefully sliding his chair back, nearly topping over the back of his seat. His eyes were wide and he pointed a shaking finger at the snake, which had reared its head. Its jaw was open, and for a moment, Hermione had the bizarre thought that it was laughing.

"It spoke to me!" yelled Harry, attracting the attention of the class. "Hermione, it told me I smell like wasted youth and sexual frustration."

There were a few chuckles before everyone went back to their work; they clearly thought Harry was joking.

"You're a Parselmouth," said Hermione. "You speak Parseltongue, the language of snakes."

"Huh." Harry eyed the snake. "How did I learn it?"

"You didn't," said Hermione. "You gained the ability the night Voldemort tried to kill you."

When Hermione finished telling him the story, he didn't seem all that bothered. He conversed with the snake for the rest of the lesson, chattering happily away about Merlin knows what. By the time they finished and went for lunch, the conversation continued. Harry completely missed the stares he received upon walking into the Hall with the snake wrapped around his forearm. Parvati adamantly refused to sit next to him, but he didn't really seem to mind. Halfway through eating his dessert, Harry finally turned to Ron and Hermione.

"I need to give this mighty fine creature a name, don't you think?" said Harry, patting the snake on the head.

"You're giving that thing a name?" asked Ron, eyeing the snake in disgust. "You're just as bad as Hagrid!"

"I could always call him Ron, but that would probably get confusing," said Harry, ignoring Ron's mutinous glare. "Can you imagine? I'd be saying stuff like, 'Ron woke me up this morning telling me he was hungry'."

Hermione hid a smile as she joined the conversation. "Actually, nobody would be confused if you said that."

Ron rolled his eyes as he shoved a spoonful of custard into his mouth. "What have you been talking about for so long, anyway?"

"He was just telling me how he'd like to grow big enough to be able to swallow you whole," said Harry, subtly winking at Hermione. "He says you look particularly tasty."

Ron paled. "Wh-what?"

Harry cracked up. "You're too easy, Weasley," he said. Even the snake seemed to laugh. "You know what, I think I'll call him Mr Snake. Just Snake for short."

"How original," said Hermione.

Ron muttered darkly under his breath.

"Be thankful Harry doesn't know about your arachnophobia," whispered Hermione, shivering slightly at the thought.

Harry's head snapped up and he stared at them with a mischievous grin. That's what Hermione called it. She shuddered to think what he would have been like had he grown up with James Potter and Sirius Black.

Ron spotted the look on Harry's face and shouted, "Charms!" He swiftly grabbed his bag from under the table and bolted out his seat, heading for the doors.

Hermione followed at a slower pace, reluctantly walking side-by-side with Harry and his snake for company. As they stepped onto the staircase, Harry turned to her.

"Do you want to touch my snake, Hermione?"

Hermione sighed. She'd been expecting him to say something crude and she narrowed her eyes at him, which made him grin widely.

"Don't be shy," he said, laughing. "He only wants you give him a nice stroke."

Hermione furiously blushed once again and lengthened her stride, failing to ignore Harry's boisterous laughter echoing off the walls.

"Tell your snake it can go and stroke itself!" she shouted. Instead of having the desired effect of shutting Harry up, it only made him laugh that much harder.

* * *

**A/N** _Believe it or not, there is a slight plot to this story, even if it doesn't exactly look like it. I know Harry seems far too powerful, using magic so easily like he does in this chapter, but I put it in for a very good reason (and because I think it's funny). Also, his magic is 'wonky'. Remember that. Anyway, thanks for reading. Review?_


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